


See America Right

by reserve



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor - All Media Types, Young Avengers
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Creeper Loki, F/M, Ladies first, Loki Does Not Get to Have an Orgasm LOL, Queer-ish sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first blowjob Loki gives in this new body is an unexpected one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See America Right

**Author's Note:**

> Set during _Loki: Agent of Asgard_ , spoilers for AoA #1 & #2, and kinda for YA. I may write HORRIBLE porn but I will warn you about spoilers.
> 
> This is a completely unbeta’d piece of shit, and I won’t be held accountable. I just know you’ve all been dying to read a PWP in which Loki and America drink beer and then he gives her a strap-on BJ, right? Also: she punches him at least once.
> 
> Honestly though, what is wrong with me? Clearly _everything_.

“Many people find me quite charming,” he says as he slides the pint of pale, gently fizzing beer across the sticky bar top and closer to her.

America glares at him, but takes a sip anyway.

“Don’t kid yourself, _chico_. Nobody likes you, not even in this new getup.”

She looks him up and down, and he looks down at himself.

“ _Especially_ not in this new get-up,” she finishes.

Loki shrugs.

“You don’t know everybody.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she says, by way of agreement, and takes another gulp of beer, already half-done with the pint. Girls always surprise him, even now.

“Listen,” he says, and leans a little closer, pleased when America neither jerks away nor swiftly punches him. “If I know the next person to walk through the doors of this bar, then I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then you get to do whatever you want with me. Beat me up, kill me, whatever, your choice.” He winks. “Lady’s choice.”

America laughs that big, dark chuckle of hers and smiles.

“Sounds like I can’t lose.”

They’re pretty far downtown, deep into Alphabet City, and far enough away from Stuytown that the chance of him actually knowing the next person into B Side is pretty unlikely. Bet aside, it’s not as though he’d actually keep a promise like leaving America alone, not when it’s so much fun to watch her bristle… plus, and this is the truth, he’s—as the Midgardians say—cruising for a bruising tonight. Hopefully a good one, and if there’s a gal in the Nine Realms likely to give him one then it’s Miss America Chavez who’s actually dead on: he’s generally speaking nobody’s favorite, but lately he’s infrequently somebody’s punching bag.

This new body likes to live on the edge, and the edge involves getting bruised every so often.

“So what have you been up to?” Loki asks.

“None of your business.”

“Heard Kate got kicked out of another school.”

“Heard David shot you down on New Year’s Eve.”

Loki scowls lightly.

“Everyone knows,” America says.

“I guess you’re right. I’m not for everyone.”

It’s a quiet night at B Side, and a Tuesday: no-man’s-land for drinking in Manhattan. The bar is playing one of their customary shitty movies; tonight it’s one of Loki’s new favorites, _Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains._

_\--_

“All right, get up,” America says suddenly, four beers in.

They’ve settled into watching the movie in moderately comfortable silence, Loki purchasing beers as needed. No one’s entered the bar since Loki made his promise, and the East Village locals around the counter and the pool table are slowly getting drunker, and louder.

“What?” He’s startled.

“Get up,” America repeats, and sort of shoves at his shoulder. He is definitely not caught off balance. _Definitely_ not.

Loki stands and starts to fix his vest, but America plucks his horns off and puts them down with less care than he’d like on the bar top. She covers both their beers with coasters.

“Let’s go.”

“Where….”

This time she puts both her hands on his shoulders, turns him around bodily, and pushes him in the direction of the pool tables, towards the back of the bar, and the restrooms. 

“Are we playing pool?” He asks with interest.

“No, no we are not,” America replies, and straight up frog marches him to the bathroom.

“Are we going in here?” Loki takes a glance around the room. No one seems to have noticed them.

One hand still on his shoulder, America opens the bathroom door and forces him inside with no effort at all. For a moment, he thinks she’s just going to leave him in there, like some kind of insult: _here, you belong with the refuse,_ but after a heartbeat she follows him inside, and closes the door behind them with a thump.

Loki has no idea if America knew in advance that B Side has some of the most repulsive bathrooms in New York City, somehow always replete with standing water, recent graffiti, a strange humidity, and of course, band stickers galore. Then he remembers that she chose the bar.

“So,” America says, hands on her hips, legs spread in what could almost be her fighting stance.

“So,” Loki says back, and puts his own hands on his hips, attempting to mirror her. His back is against the wall closest to the toilet, and this is really not his idea of an ideal location of a fight.

“Something else I heard is that you’ve been spending some time as a girl lately.”

“News sure does travel fast.” Loki shrugs.

“And where’d you get _that_ body, you little thief?”

Loki grins. This is good.

“Ah, that one is all mine.”

America looks like she sure as shit doesn’t believe him, and like she’s about to lay down justice for the body snatched girl who doesn’t exist. She steps closer, one knee almost insinuated between Loki’s own two, close enough that with a swift upward movement she could check to see if he’d gotten back all his own parts, and hurt him dearly in the process.

“I swear!” Loki says, and shows his palms placatingly.

“Like your swears mean anything,” America says. Then she pulls one arm back and punches him squarely in the face.

His head knocks against the wall, and really he should have seen this coming when she took his crown off. Why else would she have taken his crown off and Norns wasn’t that a little suspicious to being with? He’s slipping, surely. He brings a hand up to his face and gingerly touches his nose; of course he has a nosebleed now.

“What was that for?” He asks, licking blood off his upper lip. It comes out kind of garbled.

“For being a body snatching thief,” America says, and when he’s about to protest, she adds, “and because I wanted to.”

Loki can’t argue with that logic.

“Did you like being a girl?” she asks.

“Can’t say I didn’t like it.” He is pure nonchalance.

“There’s something I want from you,” America says. “Let’s just assume you’ve lost our bet.”

Loki grins.

“Lay it on me,” he says, and spreads his arms out wide against the wall.

 --

“Don’t act like you’ve never done this before, _chico_ ,” America says smugly, and the hand at the back of his neck presses his face forwards and towards her cock.

Loki’s mouth opens just to keep the silicon from hitting him, and potentially bruising his poor face further. From above him, America murmurs in appreciation as he wraps his lips around her. She moves forward, and he realizes that the only way to do this is to _do it._ He brings his hands up to her ass, holding her in place, fingers slipping to where her cheeks meet the tops of her tawny, toned thighs, and where the leather straps of her harness cup her ass firmly. He lets the pads of his fingers dig in there lightly, toying with the leather. Then he goes to work in earnest, kneading her skin and working his tongue along the rubber in his mouth, putting on as good a show as he knows how.

He actually _hasn’t_ done this before. Not in this body, not as this Loki. He’s thought about it, surely, maybe not in this exact configuration, but he’s thought about sucking cock before. He thought a lot about Billy and Teddy when he wore his younger body. He thought about Teddy roughly thrusting into Billy’s mouth, Billy’s pouty lips stretched around Teddy’s giant (must be, right?) cock. He thought about Teddy’s hands fisted into Billy’s floppy brown hair, just like America is doing to him now. He loses himself a little.

“You like this,” America breathes. Her shirt is hiked up, and he doesn’t know if he did that, or if she did. She’s touching one of her breasts, tugging at the nipple, and her other hand continues to dig into his scalp. Tentatively, he slips a hand down past her tops of her thighs and into the crevice between her legs. Aside from the harness, she doesn’t have underwear on. He has no idea how she hid this thing—this dick— inside those tiny shorts she’s always wearing. He slides his mouth down the length of her and the head of her cock makes a popping sound as he pulls away.

America looks down at him, and Loki looks up, fingers poised at the edge of her cunt. He puts his other hand against the wall behind her to steady himself, and waits. America’s cock is dripping with his saliva; a strand of it connects his mouth to her still.

“May I?” he asks, gentlemanly, and licks his lips. The new Loki: seeking entrance and permission through semi-correct channels always.

She nods once, and lets out a long breath when he thrusts one finger past her lips, and into the hot, wet warmth of her. He adds a second finger when she starts to move towards him, her cock bumping against his cheek. He’s pressed his face to her abdomen, and her hand is on his shoulder now, keeping herself upright. Loki’s knees are scraping hard on the repulsive concrete floor. America moans, and he hooks his fingers inside her, stroking that rough, sweet spot.

“Fuck you… fuck you,” she says breathlessly. “I fucking hate you.”

Loki nuzzles her soft, curved stomach and continues to relentlessly move his fingers inside her dripping cunt, driving into her, but not nearly as roughly as she fucked his mouth. His thumb grazes over the hard nub of her clit, and the base of the dildo she wears bumps against his knuckle as he strokes her.

Loki feels her shudder before he realizes America is coming, and she clenches around his fingers, pushing him out. The hand on his shoulder squeezes tightly, and he feels her sway slightly, then she pushes him roughly away, and arches her back. Her shorts have slipped down her legs. He puts his damp fingers to his mouth. It’s been a lifetime since he tasted another person.

“That was—” he starts to say as he stands, carelessly using the toilet seat for leverage.

“Shut up,” America says. She retrieves her shorts, tucks herself back, and buttons up.

“I was going to say unexpected.” He tries to smooth his hair back into place, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Doesn’t bother to wash his hands.

America’s cheeks are a dusky red. She tugs her at her shirt, and squares her shoulders.

“Let’s go see if someone stole that stupid crown of yours.”

Loki has literally no idea how long they’ve been in this bathroom, but he’s willing to bet it’s been a while.

“Sure,” he says. “That sounds nice.”

The crown is there, so are their beers. The place has filled up since they disappeared. One of the guys from his building is sitting a few seats away from where they left their things.

America smirks, and slides one strong hand down his back. Loki tries hard to think away his stubborn erection. They drink.

**Author's Note:**

> B Bide is real. _Ladies and Gentlemen: the Fabulous Stains_ is a real movie that I actually saw at B Side. The idea of Loki living in the pit of hell that is Stuytown is downright hilarious to me.


End file.
